Cir. 2008
Ten year old Alex ran along the darkened patio, low to the
ground and keeping to the shadows. This was his new game, and he was exceeding
at it very well. The security system at his parent’s luxurious Fresno home was a physical
puzzle, and quite the challenge to his young mind. Despite the fact that Alex
had not spoken to anyone since he was born, he had mastered every puzzle he had
found.
Alex remembered being born, and every minute detail up until
this point as he silently calculated the alarm’s motion sensor algorithm. He
remembered countless doctor visits in detail, held by a worrying Mrs. Nancy
Ketchum, wondering why her four year old hadn't spoken a word, oblivious to the
fact that her son had just mapped out his own DNA with the toy blocks on the clinic’s
waiting room floor.
Nancy
was always too busy or simply overlooked the fact that her son did in fact
communicate, just on a level inconceivable to her. He had tried once to show
her, completing the crossword and the word jumble in the morning paper that was
left on the kitchen table. Alex had gone to great pains to replicate her hand
writing, and when she found the completed puzzles, she had tearfully gone to
her husband Robert, assuming that she had gone crazy.
He wasn't autistic, the doctors assured her. The child psychologist
felt that Alex was just waiting for an appropriate time to talk. He had failed
to notice that the random crayon doodles that Alex had drawn on the paper
provided was a fractural representation of the good doctor’s Ford Taurus,
complete with the dent on the driver’s door.
The house’s security system was an entirely different
puzzle, one that required his extraordinary mind to control his body. Under the
most exacting commands, his body could pass directly in front of the cycling
motion detector. Using refrigerator magnets and his mother’s iPod, he could
fool a particular window or door, and enter or exit as he pleased.
Alex reached the backyard pool and stopped suddenly.
It was by the pool, gliding towards the door that led to the
living room.
It was also passing by the motion sensors, and not setting
them off.
Alex knew that the motion sensors were infrared sensors, and
that It was invisible to the sensors.
Then Alex communicated with It.
- - -
Eighteen year old Shane Ketchum sat on the end of his bed
crying, concentrating on how much he hated his father, Robert, and his step
mom, Nancy. How much he hated Fresno,
how he hated his life, school, his future, and his entire existence. Shane
barely remembered his parents getting divorced, he still held the memory of his
mom, Sherry, explaining that his parents “ didn't hate each other, they just had
fallen out of love.”
Shane still hated his dad for the divorce. Robert had worked
as an executive for some Agriculture company in the Valley, and was never home.
He remembered countless dinners as a kid, asking where his father was, school
plays, looking for his father in the crowd, graduating grade school, with only
his mother standing, smiling.
When Shane was 14, Robert had set him down and explained that
his job had caused the divorce. He was just trying to provide for his family,
but working 70 hours a week had done more harm than the money he earned. Robert
had quit his job, and started “consulting”. Now he worked from home, and had
turned his managing skills towards his kids, micro-managing their lives.
Robert had made Shane change schools, taking him away from
his friends. It was just the start of an inevitable ruining of his life. Robert
decided what sports he played, what elective classes he took…
The only reprieve Shane had was when his father had met Nancy. Then Shane was out
from under the microscope, and soon his dad was married again.
Shane despised Nancy, the weak-willed woman who dutifully
took all of Roberts’s orders, never questioning, never having an opinion of her
own. She feigned interest in Shane, but he could see right through her. He was
just a stepchild, and soon he had a brother, Alex, born with a silver spoon in
his mouth. That’s why he didn't talk, or do anything for himself; Nancy was there to wait on
him hand and foot.
He couldn't blame Alex, he was just the tie that held his
father and his impostor step mom together.
Shane’s hands clenched in rage, and clicked off the safety
on his pistol.
Several summers ago, Robert had decided that the family
needed to “get away.” Shane remembered only one vacation before his parents
divorced. Now his dad wanted to make this a “family tradition”, buying a cabin
in the woods in Idaho.
Shane refused to go; his dad had taken him from all his friends, and now he was
taking him away from the few friends he had made at the private school. Away
for five weeks.
Shane had sat in the back of the Yukon with his older sister, Kellie,
listening to his iPod, hating the sight of the back his father and step mom’s
heads. Hating the endless road as they drove to Idaho.
But Idaho
was different, there were two kids who rode everywhere on “Quads”, even on the
streets of the small town by the river. They had teased him about being from California, he was the
butt of all their jokes, but they had taken him fishing. Yes, he was subject to
every “city-boy” joke there was, but he was finally free. No school, no dad
telling him what the schedule for the week was, no step mom making him do her
household chores.
That was the last summer he had spent with Kellie. She had
gone off to college in the fall, and met a guy, and now she didn't talk to her
dad anymore, and Shane wasn't allowed to see her. Sure he talked to her on
Facebook once in a while, but Robert refused to let her in the house. He hated
Robert for that. His own blood sibling.
Shane had gone shooting “rock chucks” with his new friends
and had experienced a new chapter in his life. None of his friends in Fresno had a gun, or went
shooting. Arriving at the cabin that night, dusty and dirty, he had asked his
dad if they could buy a .22. He gave up all hope when he was barraged with
questions from his dad.
The next year, when Shane was 15, he had met up with the
boys on Quads, and it was like time had stopped, like California didn't exist. He went fishing,
swimming, rafting, and of course shooting. This time the boys had pistols, and
Shane came prepared. He had brought all of his saved allowance, his iPod and
his DS. He was set on buying a .22 rifle, but after spending the day shooting empty
milk jugs with pistols, he had pawned his iPod and bought a .45 pistol. It wasn't a ‘Colt or a Smith’, the boys had said, ‘but fuckin awesome anyways’.
He had disassembled it and smuggled it home, playing with it
at night. He had almost been busted with it, but thankfully Nancy just thought he was masturbating.
He wasn't jerking off now.
No note. He’s just let them wonder.
He put the barrel in his mouth. Closed casket.
The alarms went off, the outside sentry lights turned on. He
could hear the dull beeping from the control box on the kitchen wall.
Shane leapt from the bed, pistol in hand, if someone was
trying to break in…
All thoughts from moments ago, gone.
From the window, he could see the pool below him, and Alex,
standing next to the pool.
Alex was slowly moving one arm, like he was slowly trying to
fly with one arm.
Shane could see Alex’s mouth moving.
He was talking.
- - -
Kellie Ketchum awoke with a start; her boyfriend was not in
the bed next to her.
She sat up and called his name.
The name her father refused to say.
She had graduated from high school and had gone to that
God-awful cabin in Idaho for the summer, and
breathed a sigh of relief at the return to society, and college at Berkeley.
Her first semester, she had met Brandon, and as they say: ‘fallen in love at
first sight’. The three weeks apart over winter break had been murder. She had
gotten yelled at by Robert, who kept track of her monthly cell minutes.
When the spring semester had ended, she had gotten a job at
Presidio Studios, and began looking for an apartment. It was a smart economical
move to have a roommate. Her father had hung up on her when she had told him
that she was moving in with Brandon.
She received an email telling her that, if she decided to
move in with ‘that boy’, she was “cut off” for good.
She called his bluff, and then cried as her credit card was
declined at the gas station. Two days later her cell phone was shut off.
But she loved Brandon.
She kept up tabs on the family through her younger brother, Shane. But
communication was spotty at best, Shane was afraid of getting caught talking to
the ‘forbidden child’.
Her mother, Shelly was little help. She had moved with her
new boyfriend to Sacramento.
She worked there as a LPN, and occasionally sent her $20 in the mail.
Her part time job at Presidio became fulltime, and school
part time, and when the day ended, she knew that she was doing this all for
herself.
She walked into the small kitchen and called for Brandon again.
No answer.
She went to the window to look for his car on the street
below, maybe he left, but why would he?
His car was there, and there were two cars wrecked out
front. A head on collision that looked bad. She didn't see anybody walking
around, and there were no police sirens.
She called his cell phone from hers, and jumped when it
rang, still sitting next to the computer.
Kellie became afraid, and exited her apartment and knocked
on the door across from her apartment. A very nice couple from Massachusetts lived
there. They had had dinner together once or twice, and occasionally traded
DVDs.
She knocked on the door again. There was no answer.
She ran down the hall to the girl she bought weed from. She knocked
once and walked in like she always did. The TV was on, something cooking on the
stove; but the apartment was void of life.
Eyes blurry with tears found her on the street below. There wasn't just one car wreck. As far as she could see both directions, there were
cars smashed into the cars parked street side, some on fire, some over turned.
And no people.
- - -
Nancy Ketchum awoke with a start. The security alarms were
going off. Robert was out of bed, looking frantically out the windows.
Panic and horror went though their minds.
The seconds clicked off as Nancy ran for Alex’s room, only to find it
empty.
Methodically, Robert went to the kitchen and looked at the
alarm. He picked up the phone handset and yelled for Nancy.
Twice now, the tree along the side of the house had set off
the alarm, but the screen was showing that the alarms had been set off in the
pool court yard.
The security company would be calling any minute now.
Nancy
was screaming now. Robert ran to the boy’s room. Alex wasn't there, and with
adrenalin coursing through his veins, Robert lifted the bed off the floor, looking underneath.
Nancy
was screaming his name. Shane was yelling too.
Robert met Shane at the stairs.
“He’s out by the pool!” Shane yelled. He was holding a
pistol.
Robert grabbed Shane by his throat and twisted his right
hand and the arm towards the ceiling. He squeezed equally hard.
“He’s - out - there!” Shane croaked, pointing with his left
arm.
Robert looked about frantically as Nancy ran past him towards the living room
and the door to the court yard.
Robert yelled for her to stop, and she did just for a
second, before her motherly instincts overrode Robert’s mental conditioning and
she continued to run.
Nancy
returned from the pool carrying Alex like a rag doll. Shane was sitting on the
couch crying, as Robert stalked around the sofa looking like a missile seeking
a target.
The pistol was setting on the coffee table, magazine next to
it, and a lone bullet slowly rolling on the glass surface. Shane had to show his
father how to disarm the weapon.
Nancy
now sat on the couch opposite Shane, Alex draped in her lap, the boy staring at
the ceiling. She dialed her phone and held it to her ear.
“What are you doing?” Robert demanded.
“I’m calling 9-1-1!”
Nancy half
explained, half defended, “The security company hasn't called!”
A cold feeling hit Robert's gut. It had been several minutes.
He grabbed Nancy’s
cell and listened to it ring.
“Alex saw the robber!” Nancy
frantically explained. “He was pointing at him when I came out. He was making
weird noises!”
9-1-1
continued to ring in Robert’s ear.
“What?” Robert held one hand aloft in question, “Who was
making the noise? The robber or Alex?
“Alex!” Nancy
yelled, “He was pointing to the bushes by the fence, and making a noise like
the old internet things!” She imitated a dial-up modem connecting,
‘sccchhhhhhhh-ding-ding ding-ding-schhhhhhh’.
No one noticed as Alex suddenly looked towards his mother
and smiled.
Shane jumped up, Robert forcibly pointed at him and yelled,
but Shane continued to run. He slammed the open patio door shut and locked it,
and began checking the locks on the windows. He turned to his dad, “If he’s
still out there…”
Shane slowly walked back to his pistol, and telegraphing his
movements, picked it up.
Robert was staring at his son with a look of furry on his
face, breathing hard.
Shane, meeting his father’s gaze, replaced the lone bullet
in the magazine and like an expert, actuated the action of the weapon. Shane
slowly walked to the window, crouched and holding the pistol defensively.
“What the fuck is going on!” Robert screamed as he looked at
the phone. The timer in the upper right hand corner had ticked off over a
minute. No one at 9-1-1
dispatch had answered. He hit the end button and then hit send. The phone
dialed 9-1-1
again, and began to ring.
Seconds went by as the tone rang in his ear. No one
answered. Was the cell phone company messed up again?
“Shane!” Robert yelled, a bit too loud, and handed the phone
to his son. “I’m going across the street to the Brady’s. Watch your mother!”
“Step mother.” Shane muttered under his breath as his father
ran for the front of the house. Shane hit the speaker button, and moved his
hands together so he could hold the phone, and maintain his tactical grip on
the phone. The speaker continued to drone out the unanswered call to 9-1-1.
- - -
Robert expected to get attacked as he exited the front door.
He held his fists up like a boxer and quickly looked around. The coast was
clear as he began to run down the drive towards the Brady’s house.
He regretted leaving the house. Leaving Shane in charge was
a mistake, but sending Nancy
was an even bigger mistake. He didn't have time to give her explicit
instructions, and knowing her, she would have called the fire department. His
first wife, Sherry, had an extraordinary common sense, putting him to shame.
Shane had a pistol.
That scared him to his core. As father, he was the protector
of the household, but his son had a pistol, and aside from being illegal, was
extremely dangerous. From many occasions his own father’s word’s echoed in his
head, ‘What were you thinking?’
Several times his arguments with Shane had come to physical
altercations. What if Shane had decided to use the pistol to harm him? Or
himself? The boy was going through a rough time, and Robert was trying to use
the best knowledge and wisdom to guide him, but Shane had just gotten more
distant.
How do you sum up in a heated father-son argument that
you’re just trying to help your eldest son.
The thought of Kellie sprang to his mind as he ran up the
manicured lawn of the Brady’s house.
‘Thank God she’s not here now.’ All she needed to do was
call him, and he would do anything in the world for her, even what he was doing
now, running in his boxers through someone else’s lawn.
John Brady was a WWII vet who had made his money in
cardboard. They regularly had barbecues together, and John loved to talk to Robert
about the good old days. John had a heart attack three years ago, and his wife Linda
had been having heath trouble as of late, so Robert had made it a point to
check up on them daily. Over the years, John had become somewhat of a surrogate
father to him.
Robert began yelling as he neared the door. He furiously
rang the doorbell, seconds went by, then he snatched up the ceramic frog that
held the spare key to the front door.
Letting himself in, Robert began to yell, searching for the
phone.
“John! John! It’s Robert!” He yelled, nearly going hoarse.
“Someone tried to break in! Our cell phones are all messed up! I need to use
your land line!”
As he stood listening to the phone ring, it dawned on Robert
that John hadn't answered him, or any of the lights in the house turn on.
The phone continued to ring.
Dawning realization, Robert slowly walked out the door into the street towards
his house. The handset still crackling out a broken ringing tone.
Down the street, an SUV was sideways in the street, impacted
into a tree. Smoke was pouring from the front end.
There wasn't anybody by the vehicle.
- - -
Sherry stood silently on the elevator tapping her pen on her
clipboard in time with the ‘muzak’. She was on nights again at the hospital. 6
to 6 made for a rough shift, but most of the patients would be asleep. And,
thank God, she didn't work the ER.
The elevator dinged, and she exited, and walked past the
nurse’s station on this floor. She briefly waived at the two nurses reading magazines
at their posts.
Reaching the room intended, she looked in surprise as the
bed was vacant, oxygen tubes and IV lying on the bed as if the patient had
simply disappeared. Against her better judgment, she checked the bathroom.
Empty.
She ran back to the nurse’s station. Alarms and lights were
going off.
Every patient monitored on this floor just flatlined.
Frantically she ran down the hall, ducking into rooms,
yelling for anyone, her voice echoing off down the empty hall.
And empty rooms.
